


If Only

by shouldertouching



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:24:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shouldertouching/pseuds/shouldertouching
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In between hunting for the yellow-eyed demon and taking care of his two boys, John Winchester wishes his sons, Sam and Dean, had been given a better life. One where he could watch them grow and not worry about life as a hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Only

It's the third time this week that John’s had this dream. This time, when he wakes up, his body is crumpled haphazardly in the front seat of the Impala. He looks around. Two cigarette butts shoved in the ashtray. A Metallica tape half-hanging out of the cassette player. An empty, grease-stained Burger King bag at his feet. Behind him, Sam and Dean are still asleep, breathing lightly. Dean has Sam cradled against his chest, their blanket in one hand and a deer knife in the other. Typical Sunday night.

For a second, as he looks at them, John forgets how old they are. He studies Sam’s hair, seeing how shaggy it is, and remembers that the last time they got it cut they were in Albuquerque tracking a Skinwalker. That was six months ago, in August. Dean’s birthday was last month, so that would make Sam four and Dean eight… right? _Jesus_. _What the hell kind of father am I turning out to be?_

John stifles a yawn and runs a rough, dirty hand over his face, and looks at himself in the rear-view mirror. He doesn’t wake them up. Instead he looks at his own eyes, thinking fondly of the one good dream that he’s had in a while.

Yellow-eyes never came. He never pinned Mary to the ceiling and burned her alive, leaving John alone with two young children. They never left the smoldering remains of their house with just the shirts on their backs and booked it, cross-country, to find her killer. John never had to teach Dean Latin, or how to make a Devil’s Trap. He never had to stay up for days, researching, breaking into libraries late at night, leaving Sam and Dean in a hotel room by themselves, wondering if they’d be okay. He never had to worry about a vampire ripping Sam’s throat out and he never had to wonder if he’d ever find a Shapeshifter that would look like Mary.

Instead, that night, Mary had gotten up and fed Sam, then went back to bed. John stayed in the living room, half asleep in his lounge chair until morning. Mary had yelled at him for it. _You watch too much TV_ she’d said, _next time it’ll be your turn to feed the baby._

Days turned into years. John dreamt about taking Sam to his first day of school. Dean jumped out of the back seat of the car, waved at his friends, then looked back at little Sammy clinging to John’s pant leg. John urged him on, and eventually both brothers walked off together, shoulder to shoulder. Then John went to work, Mary picked them up from school. They had dinner, played Monopoly, and went to bed.

Then, suddenly, John was teaching Dean how to play ball. Sam needed help on his math homework. Mary wanted to start talking about saving up for college. A couple extra hours at the garage led to a second job and a savings account. He came home tired every night but he’d still get down on all fours and wrestle with the two of them on the living room carpet before tucking them in at night.

Mary wanted to have another baby. They talked about it for a long time. Few months later they started trying, and soon she got pregnant. She even picked out names: if it was a boy, Adam. If it was a girl, Anna.

The miscarriage devastated her.   

But they moved on, focused on the two little boys that were growing up so fast already. Dean had his first girlfriend. Then his first heartbreak. Sam earned his first soccer trophy, then his second, and his third. The fridge was getting cluttered with his homework assignments and his tests, the same red A+ peeking out from behind the pages.

John wanted to teach Dean about cars. He started out small, showing him how to wash the Impala first. What kind of product to use when polishing the chrome, how to clean the leather seats. Then he showed him how to change the oil. Tires came next. Years later they would spend weekends bent over the engine, covered in grease and dirt, talking about fuel injectors and how to fix the carburetor. After football practice Dean would come home, dump his gear, then go to work with John at the garage to earn a little extra money. He was a good worker. Determined, focused, good with customers. Always got the work done on time, and he did it efficiently. John couldn’t be more proud.

Then, before he knew it, John was handing off the keys to Dean for prom night, telling him to be careful and have a good time. Be back by 11, and no horsing around. _Treat her good_ , he said with a wink, and shoved him out the door. He went with Mary to a used car lot the next day and bought a minivan. The Impala was Dean’s now.

Then God Almighty, Sam was off to Stanford. Top of his class. He sent letters back home, saying he met a girl named Jessica. _She’s so beautiful, Dad, can’t wait for you to meet her_. He would come back home for the holidays with her on his arm. They couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other, even at dinner.

Dean worked at the garage with him, bypassing college altogether. John could tell it wasn’t for him. Eventually he handed over the keys to Dean. _It’s yours now, son. You’ve earned it._

Sam got married. Had two kids. Became one hell of a lawyer. Worked high-profile cases, made a name for himself. Dean was a late bloomer. Finally started getting serious with a girl by the time Jessica was pregnant again. By the time John held Dean’s first child in his arms he woke up, the smell of Wendigo blood and left over french fries still in his nostrils.

He turned the key in the ignition, the Impala roaring to life. He checked the rear-view mirror again, watching as Sam grunted, settled himself against his brother. They both stayed quiet as he pulled out of the wheat field they had been sleeping in and sped onto the highway. _Damn_ , he thought, staring blankly at the road ahead. _If only._


End file.
